Christmas Angst
by Timeloopy
Summary: Juliet celebrates Christmas. . .will she ever get what she really wants? Working title- I'll try to come up with something better. Short angstly Christmas multi-chapter.
1. Chapter 1

She drank eggnog and sat beside the fire looking at the little pile of presents underneath the bedraggled cedar tree standing crookedly in the corner. She let her mind drift.

"Hey, Charlie Brown. Where'd you find that tree?"

"Who's Charlie Brown, Dad?"

"You know – Charlie Brown and Snoopy? Woodstock? Flying doghouse and the Red Baron?"

"What's he talking about Mom?"

"Cartoons, sweetie." She'd have said. "Old cartoons that used to be on television when your dad and I were kids."

"Back in the olden days."

"It was not the olden days," James would have said in disgust. "I'm not old."

"Any more gray in that beard and we'd think you were Santa Claus," she would have teased.

They'd have exchanged glances.

_We really going to put up this pitiful little tree, Jules._

_It would hurt his feelings if we didn't. He worked so hard to find it._

_Doctor's orders then._

_Absolutely._

She imagined Sawyer going to fetch a bucket to stand the tree in and his son bringing water to fill the bucket. She'd have popped popcorn and they'd have laughed as they strung it. Laughed at themselves for being so corny and nostalgic. Laughed at their son holding up the popcorn when they said corny.

But instead she sipped her eggnog and looked at the crooked little tree in the corner and a tear slipped from her eye.

There was a knock at the door and she picked up her cane and struggled to her feet. Her legs ached when it was cold out – all those pins and hardware holding her together like so much duct tape and baling wire.

"Sorry I'm late," Rachel said, not missing her red rimmed eyes. "Julian claimed all he wanted was a laptop but it just looked so lonely sitting under the tree that I ended up stopping to get some cds and movies to go with it. I hope he remembered to turn down the turkey. You got your coat?"

As Juliet went for her coat, Rachel walked over to the little tree and surveyed the packages there. She clucked in disapproval.

"You've got to stop doing this, Juliet. It's not healthy."

Juliet didn't answer her. It was an old argument and she'd long since lost the strength to repeat it.

"Can you carry the presents?" Juliet said. "I got Julian a some games for his x-box. I know you said clothes and I got him a couple of outfits too, but no kid wants all clothes on Christmas. I hope he doesn't already have the ones I got. There's a basket in the bedroom that should hold the gifts."

"And what about these others?" Rachel broke into Juliet's attempt to side rail the conversation. "I assume you bought for a six year old boy this year? Should we drop by the shelter on the way to my house and hand them out? And damn it Juliet, did James even really exist? What did you buy him this year? Some bum on the street is sleeping in a cardboard box wearing that $900 leather coat you bought him last year. Why don't you just give the money to charity?"

Juliet clenched her jaw. Why couldn't Rachel just leave it alone? If she wanted to take a designer Italian coat to the shelter and hand it out on Christmas what difference did it make? She had plenty of money. And she spent plenty of it on Rachel and Julian. She chastised herself for the last thought. Rachel's concern had nothing to do with the money and everything to do with her sister's happiness. Deep down, she knew that.

"Leave them," Juliet said stiffly. "I always take them by the shelter on Christmas day after we have lunch."

She didn't say 'after I'm sure they aren't coming' but they both knew that's what she meant. Instead, Rachel piled the presents into the large basket Juliet had woven in physical therapy when she'd been recovering from the accident. Rachel picked up the one with her name on it and shook it mischievously.

"What's mine?" she asked as though the sisters hadn't shopped for the gifts together. As though they didn't consult each other every step of the way and then make a great show of feigned surprise on Christmas day. That was half the fun.

Juliet's face relaxed into a smile. "You'll never guess. I think it's just perfect for you. I found it in this little out of the way shop."

"Not on Baker Street?" Rachel grinned.

"Yes! On Baker Street! Why have you been there?"

The sisters played pretend the rest of the way to Rachel's house and by the time they got there they were both giggling like they were ten and eleven instead of forty-five and forty-six.

They played out all their old traditions. There were misshapen Christmas cookies with icing that always seemed to be a little too runny or too stiff. There was the usual staged argument with Julian about whether he could open just one present which he won as usual and opened up the pajamas that Rachel had wanted him to wear in the Christmas morning pictures anyway. He'd wrinkled his nose and kissed them goodnight before he went off to text his friends including the new girlfriend who made Rachel so nervous and made Juliet laugh.

Then it was quiet and they spiked the eggnog and got ever so slightly drunk and laughed themselves silly about all the horrible Christmases of their childhood that seemed more comical and less tragic as the years progressed.

"And do you remember? Just when he said the tree was damn well perfectly straight, it just started leaning. . ." Juliet's giggles overpowered her.

"And Mom was sitting there with her arms crossed with that I-told-you-so look on her face. . ."Rachel choked out struggling for breath.

"And it just fell right over on top of him," Juliet gasped and they literally beat on the kitchen table they were laughing so hard.

"How the hell did they ever end up together?" Rachel asked as she picked up both their cups and went to refill them with eggnog.

"Some people just aren't meant to be," Juliet said, her voice growing vaguely wistful. "Listen, I'm exhausted how about we call it a night."

Rachel glanced over her shoulder. "Sure thing. I put you in Julian's room. He's on the sleeper sofa down in the basement. I thought I'd save you the stairs."

Juliet bit back a retort because the truth was that the stairs probably would have been too much for her. She crossed the room and hugged her sister.

"Merry Christmas," she said.

"Bah humbug," Rachel said back with a wink.

***

2008

Time travel was a bitch. She'd slammed the rock against the detonator and everything had gone white and she'd expected to find out what was at the end of that long white tunnel people talked about.

But instead, she'd woken up in agonizing pain in the desert with the sun beating down into her bloodshot eyes.

"James," she'd whispered and she hadn't recognized her own voice. It was so hoarse and cracked.

"She's over here," she'd heard a female voice. Kate. So it was hell then.

"Juliet, thank God you're alive," James had said close to her ear and she'd cried out as he clutched her to him. The pain was horrendous. She'd felt consciousness waning and been thankful for any kind of relief.

***

He rarely left her side. Not through the days when her eyes barely fluttered open for a moment when the pain medicine wore thin. Not when they'd put her on the medical transport back to the states. Whenever she woke up and found thought possible, he was there. Squeezing her hand and offering her reassurance. Or sometimes absently stroking the back of her arm while he watched March Madness unfold on ESPN.

There.

With her.

But so was the pain. Whatever medication they were giving her never seemed like enough. Why couldn't they give her something stronger? And then one day, Jack had been standing at her bedside looking over her chart when she opened her eyes and didn't see James for once. She didn't want to ask the question in front of James. Didn't want him to know how weak she was at this moment.

"Can't you give me something stronger?" she'd begged, clutching at Jack's arm.

He'd searched her face for a moment.

"I could," he said hesitantly.

"Then why don't you?"

"You. . .you don't remember us telling you?" Jack said.

"Telling me what. All I remember is this unending pain."

"If we give you something stronger, it might hurt the baby."

"Baby?" she'd asked in confusion.

"You didn't know you were pregnant?" Jack had looked mildly surprised.

"Pregnant? Me?"

"Yeah," Jack had smiled. "Yeah, you. Sawyer was pretty surprised too. Guess this wasn't exactly planned, huh?"

"Planned? No. I mean. A baby?"

"So, you want the stronger pain medication? Sawyer's asked about it a few times but he didn't want to make that call. Said if the little guy had survived all this he must be a fighter."

"Did he seem okay with it? With the baby I mean. We hadn't really talked about. . ."

"Only time I've seen him smile since this happened to you. He even told me that his kid would be ten times smarter, better looking, and generally superior to my kid."

"You have a kid?" Juliet had said, the exhaustion starting to claim her.

"I think he just means in general. In case I ever have any."

"Ah," she'd said fighting to keep her eyes open.

"Sleep if you can. You're entering the second trimester so we're going to start the surgeries tomorrow. On your legs – your spine. We'll get you back on your feet but it's going to take time."

He might have said more but if he had she drifted to sleep and missed it.

***

Christmas 2008

It was a C-section. With all the slowly healing damage to her body, there was no way she could have delivered naturally without causing further damage. They couldn't do an epidural for some reason her drug clouded mind couldn't quite work out. So, she'd been out cold. She'd drifted to sleep with James squeezing her head and telling her she was amazing and woken up with James sitting on the edge of her bed holding a little blue bundle.

"You awake?" he asked, lowering the baby to her so she could see his tiny face. Her breath caught in her throat.

"We did that?" she asked, reaching out to trace the delicate baby skin with her finger. He was so pretty he didn't look real.

"We did that," James had said, laying the baby onto her breast. "I love you." He whispered kissing her forehead.

"Yeah, I love you too," she'd said her voice breathy in amazement. "Merry Christmas."

Happy.

So, so very happy.

***

The nurses had taken him away so that she could rest. She kept expecting them to bring him back so she could feed him, but they didn't so she sent James to get him. Except then James didn't come back. There were feet scurrying in the hallway. Loud cursing. That was James. Oh no. That was James.

She was already in tears when he came back into the room trembling.

"Juliet."

"No, don't tell me something's wrong."

"Juliet, baby."

"No. You don't get to wreck it. This is ours. We're happy. We. Are. Happy."

He'd closed his eyes so he didn't have to look at her.

"He's gone."

"No. No. He was perfectly healthy. He can't be dead."

James' eyes had snapped open.

"He's not dead. He's gone. Someone's taken him. I think. . .I think someone's taken him to the island."

"What? Why? Who?" The thought that she sounded like a high school journalism teacher passed randomly through her head.

"Ben was here." Some part of her brain disconnected. Ben was here but now he's gone he just did this to be known. A crazed laugh escaped her throat.

"No," she shook her head.

James was holding her and stroking her back. She was beating against his chest. And all the while the only word she could force between her lips was no – nonononononononono over and over again.

***

They had to sedate her. James had fought them on that one but Jack had convinced him finally that if they didn't do something she was going to undo the repairs from her latest spinal surgery. She was literally going to tear herself apart. So James had relented and she'd been held down and drugged into blackness that was almost as dark as her soul felt at that moment.

Her son was gone and Ben had him.

Could it get any worse?

***

It could.

James was standing by her bed and telling her that he was going after their son. That he'd find him and bring him back.

"Not the island," she said. "If he took him to the island, there's no way to find them."

"I'll find him," he said grimly. "Count on it, Jules. When I come back to you I'll have our son with me."

"But I'm going with you then," she'd said and he'd looked away. Never could look at her when he knew he was about to inflict pain.

"You can't even walk, baby," he tried to say it gently but there had been something bitter there. He wanted her with him. Wanted her to have his back as he went off to do the most important thing he ever had.

"You have to take me with you," she'd begged and he'd silenced her the only way he could. He'd jerked her against him and plundered her mouth with his tongue, nipped at her lips with his teeth. Swallowed her tears and felt her body jerking as she sobbed into him.

Then he was gone.

And she was alone.

Left to wait.

***

That was six years ago. Six years ago, she'd watched James leave to bring her son home. Six Christmases. Six years of hanging onto the hope that someday he'd bring their little boy home.

_Author's note: This is a very short multi-chapter or a very long one-shot. So, I can stay in Juliet's viewpoint and finish this in one more installment. Or I can dip into James' viewpoint and it'll take about three more. What do you think – worth dragging out? Or put this story out of its misery after one more chapter?_


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews! You guys are great. I felt like it was already Christmas when I opened my e-mail and read them all. Hope you enjoy this – it's a little harder to write Sawyer angst than Juliet angst but I did my best.

***

_Christmas 2009_

An icicle hung outside the window of the cell slowly dripping water onto the ledge below. It was hypnotizing. Drip. Drip. Drip. But the icicle never completely melted away or if it did, it refroze by morning. Sawyer sat on the narrow bunk leaning against the cinder block wall and kept his eyes on the icicle.

He heard footsteps and tried to resist the urge to turn and see who it was. But he hadn't seen anyone in days by then so he gave into temptation and looked. Benjamin Linus stood outside the bars of the cell with a flat box. He knelt and gave the box a shove so that it slid across the concrete floor and the edge of it caught on the lower bars of the cell.

"Merry Christmas," Ben said flatly.

"I want to see him," Sawyer said.

"Every time we let you see him, you kill two or three of my people in your attempt to take him and escape. I don't want to lose any of my people today. It's Christmas. "

"So why are you even here? To bring this junk?" Sawyer knelt and fished one of the protein bars from the box Ben had brought and dropped it unceremoniously back into the box. "Fine to take my son and brand my wife with a hot iron. But can't let the prisoner starve on Christmas?"

"Your wife?" Ben asked, genuine curiosity peaking through. "You actually married her? I was under the impression that she could barely walk."

Sawyer's jaw tightened as he remembered Juliet lying in that damn hospital bed. The strong vital woman reduced to dependency by her injuries.

"We're married," he said tensely. "I ain't been much of a husband but we're married."

"No, I don't suppose you would be," Ben agreed with an insidious smile.

Sawyer lunged at the cell door but it didn't give an inch. It just made Ben look amused.

"Why did you take my son?" Sawyer snarled.

"He was conceived on the island. He belongs to the island," Ben said simply then turned and walked away.

Sawyer ground his teeth together.

He wished, not for the first time that he'd brought Juliet along – no matter how much hassle it had been to bring a wheelchair or whatever paraphernalia that entailed. Juliet would know what to do – would know whether he was just being stubborn at the expense of his child or whether he was right to stand firm in his determination to take the child home.

Ben came back late that night and stood in front of his cell.

"I have a proposition for you."

"You ain't my type," Sawyer snapped.

Ben ignored the quip.

"You know that the island has moved to an arctic position. You know that our people are unaccustomed to this climate and are struggling to survive. There's only one bearing that'll get you out of here and if you try to take your son and leave without that bearing you'll both end up frozen to death anyway. If our physicist is correct, the island will move to a tropical position eventually on its own if it isn't interfered with."

"Do you have a point Ben? Or you just like to hear yourself talk?"

"I'll give you your son back if you'll stop fighting us. No one's going to give you that bearing, they might lie to you because they'd just as soon you were dead. But there's no point in these escape attempts. You're just going to get you and your son killed one way or another."

Sawyer looked back toward the icicle which had become his only companion in the last couple of months he'd spent in this cell. What good was he doing his son in here?

He met Ben's eye and neither of them looked away.

He nodded.

"Can I at least contact Juliet? Let her know he's safe."

"No," Ben said pleasantly.

But the clock struck midnight with the baby in Sawyer's arms in front of the fire.

"Merry Christmas, little guy," he said as he planted a kiss on top of the boy's tow-head. "Merry Christmas, Jake."

_Christmas Eve 2010_

"What do you mean whose Santa Claus?" Sawyer knelt in front of his son after knocking the snow off his boots on the rug inside the door.

The tiny boy toddled over to the rug and picked up a chunk of the snow and hurled it at Sawyer's left shoulder bringing him to cough out a laugh. He picked Jacob up and tossed him into the air making the little guy laugh, then zoomed him airplane style over to the couch where he lowered himself onto his back while keeping the child aloft.

"More airpwane!" Jacob cried. And Sawyer made his best airplane noises as he shimmied the boy back and forth over his head. "Now cwash!"

And Sawyer brought his son to his chest and they both made exploding noises as they hugged each other tightly.

Jacob sat up on Sawyer's chest and patted his cheeks. "Who Santa Cwaws?"

"Santa Claus lives in the north pole. Which by my estimation is about 10 miles due east of the island." Never mind that the joke would fly right over the kid's head. Jacob was all he had. The only person he could talk to without guarding his words. So, he talked to the kid like he was an adult most of the time. He wondered what Juliet would say about that. God, he missed her.

"And Santa brings toys to all the little boys and girls on Christmas which is tomorrow. Which reminds me that we need to go find one of your socks to hang by the fire so he can fill it up with candy."

"I wike candy," Jacob said.

"Then go find a sock," Sawyer said setting him on the floor and giving him a pat on the bottom to send him scurrying away.

"You're a good father," a female voice said from the kitchen door. Sawyer looked up to see Beverly leaning against the doorframe, drying a plate with a dish towel.

"If I was a good father, I'd find a way to get him off this godforsaken island." Sawyer muttered. "You can head out. I'm taking tomorrow off no matter what Ben says."

"I could stay," she said, crossing to the couch where Sawyer had moved to a seated postion. She trailed a hand over his broad shoulders that were wrapped in a thick flannel shirt – the top of several layers of clothing needed to brave the outdoors on the island these days.

"Married," Sawyer forced himself to say, though he was tempted. He didn't know whether Ben intentionally assigned hot women to babysitting duty at the Ford house, or whether it had just been so long since he'd touched a woman that they were all starting to look hot to him.

"She'd never know," she said, moving in front of him and unbuttoning the top button of her shirt. His eyes followed her hands – she was right of course, Juliet would never know. Hell, Juliet probably never wanted to see him again after all the trouble he'd caused her.

"Daddy, I foun' it!" Jake raced back into the room waving the little sock in his hand.

Sawyer shook his head. He was here to find his son – to take care of his son until he could find a way to get him home. "Go on home, Bev. Have a good Christmas."

Beverly shrugged and went to retrieve her coat. A girl had to try, didn't she?

***

_Christmas Eve 2011_

"Why didn't you just kill me?" Sawyer asked Ben as he shoveled the snow away from the ash trap on Ben's chimney. He hated the man and he knew good and well the feeling was mutual. It was something he'd pondered over and over for the last three years. Back when he'd been fighting so hard to get away, why hadn't Ben just killed him and been done with it.

"Can't." Ben said simply.

"What? You don't have murder in your heart?" Sawyer said as he dug his shovel into the ice with an effort.

"No. Literally can't. You're protected."

"Protected by what?"

Ben didn't answer for a moment. Seemed to be weighing his options.

"Protected by what?" Sawyer repeated.

"By the island," Ben said finally although Sawyer thought that was probably only half the truth.

"Don't you mean by Jacob? The island deity, Jacob – not my three year old son Jacob whose obsessed with toy airplanes and boats."

"That's one way to look at it," Ben said. "Can you get my flue working again or can't you?"

Sawyer raised an eyebrow though he was the only one who knew it with the knitted cap pulled down low over his brow and the scarf wrapped three times around the lower part of his face so that only his eyes showed.

"I'll keep trying for an hour or so but then I'm going home. I've still got to put a gloss coat on Jake's present."

"Ah," Ben said, then he turned and scooted back into his house leaving Sawyer to do the work.

"Stupid sonuvabitch,"Sawyer muttered under his breath.

He made his way home eventually and found Jake sitting at the kitchen table happily coloring with his right hand while his left clutched a small toy airplane carved from balsa wood. Sawyer made it for him while he sat in a trench waiting to get shot at by a small group of army snipers that had made landfall on the island. He didn't ask how they'd got there. He tried not to ask himself any hard questions if he could help it.

That day in the trench, all he knew was that his son was on this island and the army snipers in this case tended to shoot first and ask questions later. A philosophy he'd never had any qualms about until he'd ended up responsible for his child's safety.

He had allowed himself to think for a brief while that if he could take most of them out, he might convince one of them to transport he and his son off this damn rock. Unfortunately, it had turned out that their method of transport had been broken to bits by the chunks of ice that floated just underneath the water that surrounded the island. So much for escape.

Now it was Christmas again and he kicked off his boots and walked across the hardwood floor to look over Jake's shoulder at his drawing. He smiled. A red blobby shape sat atop a grey cylindrical shape near the top of the paper. A giant yellow blob filled most of the rest of the paper and there were black scribbles surrounding all that. At the bottom of the page two stick figures stood near a yellow squarish shape with smiles bigger than their faces. Jake was busily working on a third stick figure in the far corner of the page.

"Santa?" Sawyer asked, fairly sure that it was a safe guess.

"Daddy!" the little boy squealed and stood up in the chair throwing his arms around Sawyer's chest. Sawyer bent to kiss the top of his head then ruffled his hair.

"Like the picture? Want to tell me about it?"

He lifted his son and the drawing and carried them both to a recliner where he settled them. Beverly came out of the kitchen, the baby bump was just beginning to show. She already had her coat over her arm.

"Heading home," she called.

"Enjoy your Christmas," Sawyer said looking around the edge of the recliner. "Any chance Mark's getting you away from here for Christmas?"

There was an edge of concern in his voice. He didn't keep up closely with how far along his babysitter was but he knew it had to be getting close to what Juliet would have called D-Day. The point in a pregnancy past which she'd never had a patient survive on the island.

"Quit worrying. I'm fine," she said with a wave of her hand before she left.

The next afternoon, Jake was happily rocking back and forth on the wooden airplane Sawyer had constructed. It wasn't perfect but it wasn't half bad. He'd had help of course – the people on the island might hate him but they loved little Jake. He'd painted it a glossy gray and in red and green he'd identified the plane as Ford Airlines.

Juliet would have liked it he thought. He always thought of her in the past tense these days. For all he knew she was dead and if she wasn't, she had to hate him. Should hate him. If he'd known three years ago that he'd end up stuck on this island raising their child alone, he'd have brought her with him. At least then they'd all be together.

There was a knock at the door and a red-eyed Mark stood before him fighting back tears.

"You'll need to find someone else to look after Jake," he said his voice quivering.

"She sick?" Sawyer asked placing a hand on the other man's shoulder.

"She's dead," he answered flatly, shaking off the hand that had been offered in comfort.

As Sawyer watched him go, he turned back to watch Jake play. Okay, maybe it wasn't so bad that Juliet wasn't here. If she were here, they might have slipped up again. Pregnancy still killed on the island and if she wasn't here, at least she was safe from that.

***

_Christmas 2012_

Sawyer awoke with a jolt as a squealing boy flopped down on his chest.

"He came! He came!" Jake cried, bouncing up and down.

"Who came?" Sawyer said reaching for his glasses on the nightstand. He grinned when he could see his child's face clearly.

"Santa! He came!"

Sawyer allowed himself to be drug by the hand into the living room where a limb that passed for a Christmas tree stood in a bucket of rocks. It was covered in clumpy tinsel that someone had found in a closet somewhere and dropped by the Ford's house because they thought Jake might like it. Beneath the tree were the gifts that Sawyer had painstakingly wrapped since this year Jake had decided that the elves probably wrapped the presents.

"I don't think elves would wrap presents," Sawyer said. "Elves are guys."

"Unh-uh," Jake had shook his head and zipped away to return with a children's book depicting both male and female elves dedicated to the task of wrapping gifts for the boys and girls of the world.

"Where'd you get this book?" Sawyer had grumped.

"In my bookshelf," Jake said seriously.

And Sawyer had shaken his head and started inquiring about whether anyone had any wrapping paper. Most of them had laughed at him but Amelia had come through in the end. It was used wrapping paper – a little worse for wear. But Amelia had saved it in a drawer because she was a packrat she explained.

The gifts weren't that great to Sawyer's mind. A knitted scarf and cap with a train motif that Amelia had worked very hard to fashion. Several of the little hand-carved airplanes that Sawyer had made over the course of the year and stowed away. Jake always loved those things. Sawyer had even carved the numbers 815 into one of them as a sort of joke on himself.

He'd been wrapping the piece de resistance, a racecar with wheels that had an actual axle so that it would roll on the floor, when the small card had fluttered from beneath the folds of the paper.

'To Amy' it said. 'Thank you for making me feel so at home here. Juliet'

His knees had given out underneath him and he'd flopped onto the sofa. Juliet's handwriting hit him squarely in the gut. His attempts to get off the island this year had been half-hearted at best. It wasn't that he didn't want to go home to her, it was just that defeat after defeat had worn him down.

It was so much easier to engage in hard physical labor throughout the day making it almost impossible to think. And then to come home and bask in the unconditional love his son heaped on him no matter how bad he screwed things up.

On Christmas morning, as he watched Jake rip away the paper from the boxes with his face full of childish joy, Sawyer sipped at his coffee and wondered what Juliet was doing right then. Wished they could trade places if only for a moment because he knew that this is right where she'd want to be. In trying to protect her, he'd robbed her of one of the best things life had to offer. He kind of hated himself for that.

***

_Christmas Eve 2013_

"All the kids in the books have mommies. Why don't I have a mommy?" Jake asked seriously as Sawyer closed 'Twas the Night Before Christmas' and reached for the light.

That brought him up short so he sat back down on the edge of the bed.

"You do have a mommy."

"Where?" Jake said, spreading his little arms.

Sawyer considered what to say. It was a wonder he hadn't asked before really. If there had been any more children on the island, it would have probably come up sooner. But as it was, Jake was the only child Jake knew so he'd been pretty content to assume his life was perfectly normal.

"She was in Los Angeles last time I saw her," Sawyer said, deciding to go with the truth. If it made his son hate him, so be it. Although deep inside he trembled at the thought. He valued his son's love over everything else. It was truly all he had left after all this time.

"Why isn't she here with us?" Jake asked.

"Well, when you were a baby." Did he really want to tell him this? Tell him that he was kidnapped from his bed and his parents hadn't been able to do anything to stop it? He faltered.

"I was a cute baby?" Jake asked, his mother's smirk creeping across his face.

"Modest too," Sawyer said, allowing the child to charm him out of the whole truth.

"What's modest?"

"It's something me and you ain't, baby boy."

"I'm not a baby anymore," Jake said seriously and Sawyer forced himself not to grin.

"No, you're practically all grown up."

"Don't do that," Jake complained.

"What?"

"Make fun of me like you don't think I know it. I know you think I'm a baby but I'm not. Why doesn't mommy live with us?"

Sawyer sighed.

"Because me and you and mommy were together and we were very very happy. But something happened. Someone took you away from us and Mommy was very sick so I came to find you. And I told her I'd take you back to her, but it didn't work out that way. I haven't been able to find a way to get you to her – not and keep you safe while I'm doing it."

"I want my Mommy," Jake whispered softly.

Sawyer had thought his heart was already shattered into so many pieces that more damage was impossible. But as he heard those words, he felt it break again.

He pulled his son into his lap and kissed the top of his head.

"I want your mommy too," he said, reaching into his pocket and running his thumb over the little card he'd found the Christmas before. "I want her too."

"Do you think if I ask Santa?" Jake asked, his little voice sincere.

"Probably too late for this year," Sawyer said, his voice hoarse. "Next year, maybe." He said as he kissed the top of the little boy's head once more. He just hoped an opportunity presented itself for him to make good on Jake's Christmas wish.

_Author's note: That should be five years worth of James and Jake. Which puts them one Christmas ahead of Juliet in the story. _


	3. Chapter 3

January 2014

The list was hung on the refrigerator in the little yellow bungalow that had been insulated as best he could against the harsh cold the island had hopped into. Sawyer had scrawled it out late New Year's Eve night after he'd tucked Jake into bed and sent the lovely Rita home after a midnight kiss that had been a hair on the adulterous side of chaste. She hadn't been too happy at her hasty goodbye when he'd realized what he was about to do if he didn't put a stop to it.

Resolutions:

Lose 15 pounds. When you get off this damn island, you don't want Juliet to think you're a fat slob do you? Find the weight set you stuffed in the closet. . .and quit eating all those damn cookies Amelia drops by to assuage her guilt.

Find a new babysitter – preferably an ugly one. You want to be able to tell Juliet you were faithful don't you? Rita's got to go – the sooner the better.

Help Jake with his schoolwork. Quit letting the babysitters do it all. Just because you hated school is no excuse. If a five year old can tackle Dr. Seuss all on his lonesome, he can learn math facts. Quit letting him pull the wool over your eyes.

Find a way home.

February 14, 2014

Sawyer was drunk. It didn't happen that often but when he went on a bender, he did it right. Jake was safely stowed away at Amelia's house so he wasn't too worried about child neglect. Amelia treated Jake like he was a crowned prince – Sawyer knew that was at least partly the guilt on her part for not helping them get away – he knew guilt well.

A week ago he'd happened upon the entrance to the old well and found it unguarded. Unable to believe his luck, he'd gone home and bundled Jake into twelve layers of clothing and thrown a couple of extra blankets over his shoulder. They'd trudged through the snow and somehow he'd managed to get the kid down the ladder without breaking either of their necks.

It was icy and the wind whistled down the well and felt like fire licking at his chapped skin.

He lifted Jake onto his back.

"Hang on tight, 'kay?"

"Okay," Jake said back, his voice full of a child's trust that his father knew what he was doing.

Sawyer gripped the handle of the wheel and pushed against it with all his weight. He felt the muscles in his back and shoulders begin to burn from the strain. Sweat stood out on his forehead even in the bitter cold.

Nothing gave.

After several minutes of straining and pushing, he set Jake on the ground and led him to the second handle. He picked up the extra blankets from the ground and wrapped one around the handle to protect the child's hands and draped the other over the boy's shoulders.

"Don't let go," he said to his son, sure that if they were both gripping the wheel they'd both end up in Tunisia. Wasn't that how Hurley had told him Locke described it?

He moved back to the his previous position where he grunted and strained in his effort to move the wheel even a fraction of an inch.

Nothing.

He hadn't given up. He'd picked up a rock and hammered it against the ice that seemed to block the wheel. He'd used a stick he found as a lever, but hours passed and he'd made no progress.

He turned to see Jake shivering, staring at him with those wide trusting eyes – his skin reddened by the cold and just the slightest bluish cast beginning to set in. He dropped his shoulders in defeat. Getting Jake away from here would do no good if he froze to death first.

The little boy's arms went around his neck as he knelt in front of him and began the excruciating climb up the ladder to get them out. Hand over hand, hoping both their strength held out. And it had – at least long enough for him to get Jake home and warmed up.

But two days later, his mental strength was gone so he'd carried Jake to Amelia like it was for a party.

"You can keep him for a few days? Until I can pull myself together?" he'd asked her and she'd nodded.

Now, he was sunk into his recliner drinking MacCutcheon's scotch that he'd stolen from Ben's house in an effort to block out all his regret and self-recriminations. Eventually, he passed out.

March 2014

Jake placed the smooth stone into Sawyer's hand tentatively.

"Happy Birthday, Daddy," he said, not sure of his gift's reception.

Sawyer turned it over in his hand knowing there was something he was supposed to say. Sure it was a rock, but with Jake it must be a particular kind of rock. Some reason that he thought it would make a good birthday gift.

As he shifted it in his fingers it hit him – the shape – it was almost like. . .

"An airplane!" Sawyer exclaimed. "I love it! Thanks, man."

Sawyer gathered his son into his arms and the little boy was all smiles. Took so little to make Jake happy, Sawyer thought.

He went to the kitchen and searched through the accumulated junk that had accumulated on the refrigerator for the Resolution list.

Get rid of Rita – check.

Lose 15 pounds – well, probably not quite yet. . .seven at least.

Help Jake with his homework – failing miserably at that one. . .good thing Amelia had stepped into that gap.

Find a way home. . .

He fished in the drawer by the sink and pulled out a red pencil. He circled the last item heavily as he renewed his determination.

April 2014

The island was surrounded by a solid sheet of ice. Sawyer tried to get one of the Volkswagens buses running thinking maybe they could just drive out of there.

Unfortunately, the closest he'd ever been to a Volkswagen engine was the time he and Juliet had made love underneath one at the garage. When he realized he was spending more time trying to figure out the mechanics of how they'd pulled that off than he was fixing the engine, he threw the wrench across the garage.

There had to be another way.

May 2014

For a man with so many secrets, Ben's doors had unbelievably weak locks. Sawyer was in Ben's secret room poring over maps every time he saw the man leave. It was tricky, because he always had to arrange for a sitter before he could indulge in burglary. A real good reason you didn't hear about too many cat burglars with 8 kids at home he guessed.

He dug out an old Dharma binder labeled 'Vortical Travel influenced by Special Matter on a Theoretical Basis'. . .he started to toss it aside since it didn't make any sense to him. Then he flipped through the pages and spotted a map. It was marked with large asterisks around the globe – most of them in the midst of the ocean in the tropics. . .but there was one asterisk in the far northern sea. . .could that be where they were?

He tucked the binder into the back of his pants that were much looser since he'd taken up running on the treadmill while he read instead of munching cookies.

He thought of Juliet, and for the first time in a long time – he felt like smiling instead of crying.

June 2014

He needed help. Sure, he understood now that the island bounced around to different points on the globe. He even understood that the Dharma scientists had found a way to pinpoint where it was going next and when. The thing was, if he was reading it right, there was only one location on the globe that the island ever settled that was ice cold and it had been settled right here for over five years.

Had the island stopped moving? He needed help and there was no one he could trust. Or was there? He'd saved Amelia's life once way back in the Dharma days. . .and Juliet had saved it again when she delivered her son. Didn't she owe him just this one favor?

Amelia was teaching Jake math facts at the kitchen table while Sawyer flipped the pages of the binder propped on the display panel of his treadmill. He wore a loose pair of joggers and the fifteen pounds he'd acquired over the last five years had melted away or at least hardened into muscle. He pushed the book aside and began to run faster – thought went away replaced by the sounds of his own breathing and the beating of his own heart. When he came to a stop, he dropped his hands to his knees and worked to catch his breath.

Was there really a way out of this? Or was he just fooling himself.

July 2015

"He's done something to it," Amelia said pouring over the drawings in the book while Jake lined his airplanes up in a row on the rug in the den.

Sawyer sipped at his coffee across the table from this woman he'd known one way or another for over 30 years.

"You don't think it just gummed up on its own?" he asked.

"No, there's a natural progression to it. It's like it hangs from an invisible pendulum – the pendulum builds up momentum as it swings and when enough momentum is built – it swings the island to the next location on the grid. There's some variation to it, but in general, the island should move at least once every couple years. Ben's done something to it."

"Ben made Hell freeze over," Sawyer chuckled.

Amelia met his eye and joined his laughter. "Not fair that you aged so much better than I did," she said.

"You're still as pretty as the day I met you, Amy. If I weren't a married man. . ."

Amelia laughed harder. "I'm going to pretend you mean that," she said. "It kind of makes my day."

August 2016

There was dynamite in his pack and he felt like the biggest hypocrite to ever live. How many times had he raged about Locke and Jack thinking blowing up something was the answer to their problems?

He climbed down into the well, without his son this time, and made his way to the location Amy had indicated. She'd been a physicist with Dharma way back in the day although that wasn't what her uniform had said. The second smartest woman he'd ever met, he thought as he swung the pack gently to the floor.

He set the charge.

He lit the match.

He crouched behind a stone wall.

And he prayed that Amelia was right.

September 2014

Sawyer lay on the cot in the corner of the cell and watched the water drip from the icicle that hung outside the window of his cell. Every night it refroze. But every morning, he woke up hopeful. The hope dimmed somewhat when Ben came in to tell him he'd been found guilty of trying to destroy the island – which was ludicrous but Sawyer had never had much luck with the legal system.

Two armed men whom Sawyer had counted as something close to friends drug him from the cell without giving him so much as a coat to shield him from the cold.

They'd tied him up and dragged him to the huge upright pillar in the midst of the jungle that was covered in snow. In that odd way one has of thinking of inappropriate things at the oddest times, it occurred to Sawyer to wonder who had carefully cleared away the snow on the platform.

They'd lashed him there. He'd seen his son in the crowd, in Amelia's arms, seen her tuck the boys face down onto her shoulder where he couldn't see what was happening.

Then he'd found out what an Old Testament stoning felt like. It did not feel good. But it wasn't all that long before he felt nothing at all.

October 2014

Sawyer woke up to the sound of water dripping. Another busted pipe, he thought. Then he realized that he ought to be dead. Instead he was in his own bed and he could swear he heard water dripping.

A grin tried to spread across his face as it finally dawned on him that the sound was rain. Rain. Grinning made his face hurt but he didn't care. If it was raining, it was above freezing. And the rain was the most beautiful sound he'd heard in years.

Then his son was standing at his bedside and he laid a tiny hand against Sawyer's face and he felt a flush of warmth on his face.

"I love you, Daddy. It'll be okay," the boy whispered and Sawyer realized the sound of the rain wasn't half as beautiful as he'd thought.

November 2014

The limp wasn't all that bad. Amelia told him it was hardly noticeable. And he'd have crawled down to the dock to see what was about to happen.

Ben was banished.

Sawyer didn't understand all their rules and laws. But eventually, even the hardest heads had to believe that it was Ben and not Sawyer who had been tampering with the island's natural order of things. And in that backward way that the masses sometimes think, it was Sawyer's failure to die from the stoning that made them take a second look.

They gave Ben a boat, a gun with a single bullet, and enough water to last him three days. It was like pirates, Sawyer thought as he watched the odd little ceremony.

"Jacob is dead," Ben shouted as they set him adrift.

"I killed him. Jacob is dead," he yelled at the top of his lungs.

And Sawyer hugged his son close, hoping the child knew that Ben wasn't talking about him.

"He can die," Jake said quietly. "He couldn't but now he can."

Sawyer decided that maybe bringing his son to a banishing wasn't the best idea he'd ever had and he held the boy's hand and led him back to their little house. He needed a bearing. A new bearing. And even Ben didn't have that.

He'd worked as hard as he could and he still didn't quite have a way home.

December 2014

Amelia handed Sawyer a slip of paper.

"That's it," he said, as he slid his glasses on and peered at the neat script that pinpointed the direction home.

Amelia nodded with tears in her eyes.

"I'll miss him so much," she whispered, looking over her shoulder at Jake reading 'Twas the Night Before Christmas' in the big recliner all by himself.

"We'll miss you too," Sawyer said pulling her against him in a bear hug. "But I miss her more."

_Author's note: _

_Thanks again for all the nice reviews! It may be hard to believe with all the abuse I've heaped on them in this story but I really do like Sawyer and Juliet. I tried to throw in a bit of humor this time to soften the blows. One more chapter I think. . .and "yes, Virginia, there is a happy ending. . ."_


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's note: Thanks so much for all the reviews on this one! I've had a lot of fun writing it. This is the end. . .hope you enjoy!_

Thanksgiving 2008

"So, I was thinking," Sawyer said the minute she opened her eyes that morning. He'd been waiting to pounce, she realized.

"Dangerous habit. Always gets us into trouble," she'd muttered and pulled the covers over her head. She'd always hated mornings and she hated them more now. Morning meant waiting for Sawyer to help her to the shower – waiting for Sawyer to help her into her clothes – waiting for help to do all those things that she'd taken for granted for the last thirty years or so.

He tugged down the covers impatiently and she glared at him.

"I was thinking that the baby's due this time next month."

Juliet rolled her eyes. "Do we think about anything else lately?" She ran her hands over her expanded abdomen and her expression softened.

"I was thinking that we haven't thought of a name yet."

"Oh, well. I thought we had. I thought we liked Jacob."

"Yeah, I know we agreed on that part. I meant the rest of his name. . ."

Juliet struggled to sit up and felt a slight resentment when Sawyer shoved a couple of pillows behind her to help her in the effort. She tried not to mind that she needed his help. Jack said the physical therapy was going well and that it would go much smoother once she wasn't carrying around the equivalent of a bowling ball as she tried to find her center of balance.

"Jacob Allen?" Juliet threw out.

"Jacob Allen's fine. . .I mean the rest of his name."

"How many names are you planning to give him?" Juliet said, catching on but deciding to wind him up a bit. She gave him her best cool stare.

"Well, he'll have to have. . . I mean, everybody's got. . .you know. . .Burke or Ford?"

And as she collapsed into giggles, he realized he'd been conned.

"I'm trying to propose here, you know."

"And you're doing quite a job of it," Juliet laughed. "You're usually much more articulate."

"Now I'm trying to remember why I wanted to propose," Sawyer grumbled and he rolled onto his back and pulled open the drawer on the nightstand. He reached inside and came out with a green velvet box.

Juliet suddenly stopped laughing.

"Wait, you're really. . .I mean, you're actually. . .I mean, you want. . ." Juliet sputtered.

"You're usually much more articulate," Sawyer teased as he stood up and came around to her side of the bed.

He knelt in the floor in front of her and she was surprised to feel warm tears tracing their way down her cheeks.

"Juliet Burke. I love you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I can't stand the thought of losing you. . .can't stand the thought of you not having my back. We've been through. . .hell and worse. And I know you probably ain't in the mood for a wedding just now but I. . .I want to marry you. If you'll have me. . .and if you tell me you'll have to think about it, I may just die of a coronary so don't go pulling that shit, okay?"

It wasn't the most eloquent proposal Juliet had ever had. . .but it was certainly the most sincere.

"I love you, too," she spoke and Sawyer had to lean in to hear her. She blinked back tears. "What's in the box?"

"Oh," Sawyer said, flustered. "Right. The ring."

He opened the box and even though she'd been married before Juliet felt her heart stop. It was a simple ring – a one carat solitaire set on a plain gold band. But the man holding it. . .he was complicated fellow and she loved him more than she'd ever thought possible.

"You sure you want me?" she asked. "I'm a lot of trouble at the moment."

"And I'm not?" he said, cocking an eyebrow.

She smiled through her tears and began nodding emphatically.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes," she said, laughing. "Yes, I'll marry you. And you're wrong. I am in the mood for a wedding – as soon as we can pull it together – wheelchair and all. If that's all right with you."

Sawyer let out a whoop and jerked the ring from the box and slid it onto her trembling finger. He stared at it for a moment as though he couldn't quite believe it was really there then he looked up at her with tears in his eyes.

"I don't ever want to be apart from you again," he said before he kissed her.

Two days later, Sawyer cornered Jack at the hospital to find out if there was any reason the marriage couldn't be consummated.

"Consummated?" Jack said with a grin. "Did you really just use that word? Aren't you two already having a child together or was that some other guy?"

"Oh shut up, doc. Can she? I mean, if she can't medically that's fine but. . ."

Jack laughed at him. "Consummate away. We've got that one minor repair to do on her spine and I've got that scheduled for next week, but if you're getting married today. . .enjoy your honeymoon."

After the vows had been exchanged, Sawyer held his wife in his arms and ran a finger down the side of her face and traced her jawline. She leaned up and kissed him softly on the lips.

"I don't ever want to move out of this bed," Sawyer said, pulling her close.

"Me either," she whispered. "Me either."

The sheet jumped as the baby kicked and they both laughed.

"Guess he likes it here, too," Juliet said and she pressed Sawyer's hand over the place where their son continued to kick.

***

Christmas Day 2014

Juliet opened her eyes in Julian's room when she heard someone knocking on the door. She looked at the clock – odd – who was out and about at six o'clock on Christmas morning. Maybe it was Santa, she joked to herself.

She reached for her robe and pulled it around her against the morning chill. When she got to the foyer, she half expected to find that Rachel had already answered the knock but apparently it hadn't been as loud as she'd thought. She had one hand on the wall since she hadn't bothered to pick up her cane. It wasn't that she couldn't walk without it – but it did make it a little easier.

She yawned widely and looked through the peephole. It was Jack Shepherd. Just plain weird. She hadn't seen him in a couple of years – since the last checkup when he'd told her that she was as healed as she was going to get short of going back to the island.

She'd cried that day. Because she didn't know whether James had ever found the island and their son or whether the quest had killed James. She didn't even know if her son was really taken to the island. And it was entirely possible that James had simply found the situation so unbearable that he'd walked away and never looked back. That's what Rachel thought – that the baby's father had left her after the kidnapping. That there was no James out roaming the world in search of Juliet's only son – just some deadbeat who'd hit the road as soon as the going got tough.

Jack had patted her shoulder uneasily as the tears had poured out and when she'd finally pulled herself together, she'd never gone back for another checkup. She was too embarrassed at Jack bearing witness to her emotional distress.

Now, Jack was standing on Rachel's doorstep on Christmas morning bearing a cardboard carrier from Starbucks. Just plain weird.

Juliet opened the door and Jack offered a self-deprecating grin.

"Sorry to wake you so early on Christmas," he said. Then, holding up the carrier, "Coffee?"

"Sure," Juliet said confused. "Why not? Bring it in the kitchen."

"Do you believe in Santa?" Jack asked her when they were settled at the kitchen table and she was stirring hazelnut creamer into her coffee.

"What?" Juliet asked, with a laugh.

"Do you believe in Santa?" Jack said again.

"I'm a little old for Santa, I think. What are you going on about?"

"I got a call last night," Jack said. "From Santa. He had something for you and he wasn't sure where to make the delivery. He seemed real glad to hear you were still in Los Angeles though."

"Jack, you're not making any sense."

"I'm killing time," Jack admitted.

"What for?"

"Play along. You're really going to like what Santa's bringing you. Not anything I'd want of course – well, half of it I really wouldn't want. The other half is pretty good."

Juliet set the coffee down so hard that it splashed in the cup. Her face went white. She reached across the table and gripped Jack's wrist so tightly he winced.

"Don't joke about it, Jack. I can't take that. Is it. . .it can't be. . ."

Jack took her hand in his and patted it gently.

"Sawyer called me from the airport. He was frantic – couldn't find an address for you anywhere. He was having a little trouble getting Jake through customs since he doesn't have a birth certificate or a passport so he called me to see if I could help."

Juliet shook her head and mouthed 'no' wordlessly.

"But you. . .why would he call you. . .why not call me?"

"He didn't have your number. And you're unlisted like most of us are now that we mostly depend on cell phones. He called St. Sebastian's and asked for me. Lucky I was there making rounds."

"Oh," Juliet said. She was struck dumb. All this time she'd waited and hoped but she'd never really thought she'd see them again. Even when she was picking out their gifts and placing them under her tree, it had all seemed more like a dream than anything that could ever become reality.

"Juliet, are you okay?"

As her mind began to comprehend what was happening, she pushed herself to standing and gripped the edge of the kitchen table. A smile lit her face that made her look ten years younger – almost like she had back on the island before Jack had come to save her and very nearly brought her doom instead.

"I'm. . .I don't know what I am. But I think it's good. I'll get dressed and can you give me a ride to the airport?"

"You don't need a ride to the airport," Jack began.

"But of course I do," she said as she scurried toward the room where her clothes were. The limp was still there but Jack noticed that she seemed to feel no need to clutch at the walls for stability. For her, she was practically walking on air. He had to hurry to catch up to her.

"No, you don't." Jack said. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. "They're downstairs. They saw a street vendor who was open this morning and they stopped to get you something first. They're here, Juliet. I was supposed to keep you busy and not blow the surprise."

"You always did ruin everything, Jack." The southern drawl emanated from the foyer where Sawyer had entered without bothering to knock.

Juliet whirled to face him. He was there. He was actually standing in her sister's house.

"James."

"Hey gorgeous. Brought you something," he turned and tugged at the hand of a small boy who was hiding shyly behind his father's long legs. The little boy's sandy blonde hair curled just over his ears and almost hid his eyes. He was wearing a green hand knit sweater and navy corduroy pants. When he finally looked up, nudged by Sawyer, she saw that his eyes were the same clear blue of her own though shaped more like his father's. He was holding a single red rose in his hand and as he met her eye, it trembled.

He looked up at his father for reassurance.

"That's her," Jake asked, and his soft voice broke the dam holding back Juliet's tears.

"Oh," she breathed.

Sawyer knelt beside him and squeezed his shoulder. "That's your mommy."

The little boy leaned close to Sawyer and whispered, "She's pretty."

"Told ya," Sawyer said with a wink to Juliet who hadn't moved since she'd heard James' voice.

Sawyer stood and led the little boy over to where she waited. He dropped Jake's hand and slid his arms around her waist, crushing her against him, sliding his hand up to cup the back of her head. He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent. Coffee. Coffee and sweet smelling soap and he'd forgotten how much he loved the smell of her shampoo. It was a floral scent that always made him think of yellow and sunshine.

A sob caught in her throat and he pulled away to look into her eyes.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I should have taken you with me to get him. I should have found a way to get him back here sooner. I'm so so sorry."

She blinked in surprise.

"Sorry? But, you brought him back to me. You brought Jacob home."

Sawyer took her hand and this time they both knelt in front of their son.

Jake extended the flower he held – the red rose – and Juliet took it though it wasn't nearly as beautiful as the child who held it.

"Thank you," she said gently. "I'm. . .I'm your mom. I know you don't remember me but I've missed you so so much."

"I wanted my mommy," Jake said with a child's innocence and Juliet opened her arms and wrapped him up tight. Sawyer wrapped his arms around them both and they remained in the embrace until Jake started to squirm.

"Do I get an airplane too this year?" Jake said, looking up at Sawyer. "Or just the mommy this time?"

Sawyer and Juliet both began to laugh and Jake looked at them quizzically. "What did I say?"

"I have presents," Juliet said. "At my apartment. I always buy presents just in case you come home."

"Then, maybe we should head over and get them," Sawyer said, with his hand still around her waist. He couldn't bring himself to let her go. "You got wheels?"

"Actually, I do. . .but Rachel picked me up so. . ."

"I'll give you a ride home," Jack broke in reminding them of his presence. He looked a little teary-eyed himself. "But we need to hurry, I told Kate we'd have breakfast together before we braved Christmas dinner at my mom's."

It took Juliet a little while to convince Rachel that she hadn't completely lost her mind but when she saw the little boy there was no mistaking that he was her sister's child. Except for the shape of his eyes and the dimple in his chin, he looked exactly like her.

After more hugs and tears, the Fords managed to extricate themselves and follow Jack to his Bronco which transported them safely back to Juliet's apartment.

***

"Where'd you get the tree, Lucy?" Sawyer said, when she opened the door and flipped on the lights.

"Lucy?" Juliet said, puzzled.

"You know, Lucy and Charlie Brown? Snoopy? Woodstock and the Red Baron?"

Juliet couldn't help but laugh.

Jake tugged at the tail of Sawyer's coat. "Who's Snoopy?" he asked when he had his attention.

Sawyer swooped the little boy up though he was almost too big and flew him around the room until he stood in front of the little cedar tree. He reached behind it and plugged up the lights and smiled as he watched Jake's face light up along with it. They'd never had lights to put on their tree on the island.

"You are going to love Snoopy," Sawyer said. "He was a World War I flying ace."

"Flying like airplanes?" Jake asked.

"Like pretend airplanes," Sawyer said as Juliet looked on at the two people she'd almost given up on.

She walked over to the tree and when she knelt beside it, she stopped short.

"You okay?" Sawyer asked.

"I'm great," she said as though she was surprised. "I mean, I forgot my cane but I seem to be just fine."

Sawyer glanced at Jake and then back at Juliet. "We'll talk later. There's things . . .well, there's things I don't understand myself. . .but maybe we can figure them out together. You said something about presents."

Juliet reached out and picked up one of the boxes and squeezed it gently. "I think this is the one." She handed the box to Jake who glanced at his father for approval and when he got the nod ripped into the paper with glee.

It was remote control airplane – shiny and red – much too sophisticated for a six year old but she hadn't been able to resist somehow.

"It's great!" Jake said, leaping up and throwing his arms around his mother's neck. She rocked back on her heels and sat down hard but she didn't care. She laughed aloud and looked over Jake's shoulder to where Sawyer found himself blinking back tears for the second time that day.

"Thank you," she mouthed.

"You're welcome," he mouthed back and he sat down on the floor to join his family as they finished opening the gifts.

***

It was almost midnight when Juliet stood up from the couch and held out her hand to her husband.

"Come to bed," she said simply.

"You sure? I mean, it's been while and if you wanted to take things slow."

"I haven't had sex in six years, James. Don't give me that shit about you need time to think about it."

"You either, huh?" Sawyer grinned and let her pull him to his feet. "So, it's all right if I rectify the situation."

"Big words for a two bit con man," Juliet teased.

"I read a lot," Sawyer returned. "Got to keep ahead of Jake."

"So did you bring some island magic back with you?" Juliet said as they wrapped their arms around each other's waists and moved in the direction of the bedroom. Jake was fast asleep in the guest room which was painted blue and would soon have an airplane bedspread now that she knew what her son's taste was.

"Ben killed Jacob."

"Wait, not OUR Jacob."

"No, the island Jacob. He killed him. And he did something to the island." They were at the door of Juliet's room now and she reached inside to flip the lightswitch. Sawyer wrinkled his nose.

"Too girly," he said as he surveyed the rose colored bedspread and pastel pink walls.

"You didn't hang around to help me decorate," Juliet said lightly, but in a tone that reminded Sawyer there would be more talking to do when the time was right.

"We were stuck in the arctic for five years and as soon as we got back to somewhere warm enough for Jake to tolerate the trip. I brought him home."

"I know you did. I knew if you could – you'd bring him back."

Sawyer swiveled her around and placed his hands on her hips where he could look at her.

"This is going to sound crazy, but whatever Jacob used to be to the island – the Jacob that Ben killed – what if?"

"Go on."

"What if our Jacob has that power now? He says things sometimes Juliet that – I mean, he's just a kid – and he's a great kid. In spite of being stuck with me on that island. But your limp's gotten better as the day's gone on, hasn't it?"

Juliet's brow furrowed as she realized that she'd felt barely a twinge in the last couple hours.

"I'm not saying he's the same as the Island Jacob. . .but maybe somehow. . .the power had to go somewhere. . .all that healing power. . ."

"He's a little boy, James. He's our little boy. And we'll love him and be there for him no matter what."

"I know that. I love him more than I could have ever imagined. But someday we may have no choice – someday he may lead us back to that island. Could you stand that?" Sawyer asked, not sure he wanted her answer.

"I love him no matter what," she replied. "But don't you dare leave me behind again."

"I won't. I promise."

The look in her eyes shifted from one of motherly concern to something more sensual. Her hands toyed with the buttons of Sawyer's shirt and he grasped her hips more firmly and pressed her to him. Their lips touched and the hunger of the last six years welled up in them both. When at last they broke apart long enough to make their way to the bed, Juliet lay back and waited with anticipation as he stretched out over her looking down into her eyes.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Ford," he said as his hand slipped between her legs and teased a moan from this woman he'd longed to touch on so many cold dark nights.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Ford. . .I guess I do believe in Santa after all," Juliet said with a satisfied sigh as Sawyer made the rest of her Christmas wishes come true.


End file.
